


The Courtship Phase

by njw



Series: Dicktim Week Prompt Stories [4]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Alternate Universe - Space Opera, BAMF Tim Drake, Background Relationships, Drama, Humor, Identity Porn, M/M, Vigilantes in SPACE, dicktimweek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 12:35:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21849769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/njw/pseuds/njw
Summary: Babs tilts her head. “I don’t expect Red will go that far. Their pattern up until now has been very reliable. They show up whenNightwing’s in trouble, stay long enough to tilt the odds in his favor, then disappear before anyone can confront them. They have shown no signs of being interested in further contact, let alone physical confrontation.”“That’s ‘cause they’re still in the courtship phase,” Jason mutters, then smirks wickedly and winks at Dick. “Just wait, soon you’ll wake up and there’ll be this huge Terelian dude or dudette asleep in your bunk next to you—”Damian scoffs. “Todd, you fool, a Terelian would never be able to sneak up on Grayson unawares in his sleep! The stench alone would awaken him the moment one entered the ship. No, his suitor is far more likely to be an Arcturan.”That’s great, but… “Dami, Arcturans eat their mates after copulation.”Damian shrugs. “All relationships have their challenges.”*For thetumblr Dicktim weekday four scifi/space AU/partner prompt.
Relationships: Tim Drake/Dick Grayson
Series: Dicktim Week Prompt Stories [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1571443
Comments: 100
Kudos: 752
Collections: Dick Tim Week 2019





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [clarityhiding](https://archiveofourown.org/users/clarityhiding/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Much thanks to Themandylion (clarityhiding) for the magnificent beta! This story's for you, because SPACE is still something I literally never would have written without all the inspiration you provide. :D
> 
> Enjoy!

The civilian passenger liner rocks with the impact of the pirate ship’s plasma cannons. “Oh, _heck_ no,” Dick growls, grinning savagely as the _Nightwing_ finally comes into range. “Let’s see how you like fighting someone who can actually hit back.” And he opens fire.

The photon cannons hit first, each impact absorbed by his opponents’ shields. It’s enough to draw their attention, though, and redirect their focus away from the limping passenger liner. Good.

The pirate returns fire, and Dick steers into a barrel roll to dodge. Releasing a barrage of torpedoes as the ship comes out of the roll, he smirks. The attacking ship is Epsilon Class at best, and definitely no match for him. Not with all the upgrades and cutting-edge tech Bruce makes sure everyone who’s ever flown under his banner is outfitted with.

Even if Dick is flying farther afield these days, he’s still a Bat, and always will be.

As expected, the torpedoes compromise the pirate ship’s shields, both fore and aft. Tiny escape pods jet out as the crew flees their broken ship. Based on scans, all twelve crew members abandoned ship. That’s a relief. It’s always risky having to board a damaged spaceship to retrieve stray criminals. Sometimes someone’s genuinely injured and in need of rescue. More often than not, though, it’s a trap.

This time, it should be easy enough to collect the pirates and then send them on to the nearest Coalition authority, along with evidence of their wrongdoing. Now all he has to do is move in and—

An impact sends him rocking forward in his seat restraints as something hits his ship out of fragging _nowhere._ Whatever that little love tap was, it came from something packing a heck of a lot more firepower than the mediocre pirate he’s after.

Maybe even more than the _Nightwing_.

“Who…?” Dick reaches for the controls and keys in a scan, searching for anomalies in heat signature and gravity, trying to suss out a possible cloaked attacker. When he finds them a moment later, his eyes widen in shock. “Holy Sagan,” he murmurs faintly. They’re _huge._

And they’re right on top of him.

“Well, that’s not good.” The situation looks pretty grim. Then again, he hasn’t spent over a decade as a vigilante, piloting first the _Robin_ and then the _Nightwing_ , without picking up a few useful tricks.

With a feral grin, Dick activates the tractor beam and captures the damaged, abandoned pirate ship in its grasp. Even as the behemoth looming behind him powers up, probably readying a massive array of crippling attacks, he sets in a course, and _moves._

_This part is always fun._

The _Nightwing_ dives forward, sleek and powerful and more responsive than any ship on the market. As it does so, Dick reels in the tractor beam, yanking the damaged ship straight at himself. It careens toward him, picking up speed as he flies at it in a bizarre game of chicken. At the last possible moment, he releases the tractor beam and simultaneously steers the _Nightwing_ up to skim right over the oncoming ship—which then smashes directly into his remaining attacker.

Snickering, he reaches a safe distance and then wheels to face the now-floundering behemoth. Scanning the scene, he frowns and weighs his options for a bare second before making a decision. Calmly, he sets off his own distress beacon, notifying the other Bats of his situation, then jettisons the beacon into space.

If it were just his ship at stake here, he’d already be in hyper right now, getting the heck out of this sector. Sometimes discretion is the better part of valor, and recognizing when you’re outgunned is one of the first things Bruce drilled into him during his training. His years of flying solo have only driven the lesson home further.

But the passenger liner still hasn’t left. Scans show it has life support, at least, but it appears to be incapable of even the most basic propulsion. Clearly, the damage inflicted prior to his arrival was too severe and the crew are either making repairs, or waiting until someone can make it out to help them. At least Dick calling in the Bats means those people have a shot at being saved.

If he leaves them here, they’re sitting ducks. There’s no way he’s abandoning a ship full of civilians, so he’ll just have to hope the impact damaged the huge attacker sufficiently to give him a fighting chance. If he’s really lucky, he might’ve even taken out their weapons array.

Just as the hopeful thought passes through his mind, Dick sees the array powering up again, and winces.

_Whoops. Guess this isn’t my lucky day._

He immediately implements evasive maneuvers, weaving and rolling in a seemingly random pattern as he attempts to target weak points on the opposing ship. It strafes him with a near-continuous barrage of ion guns, particle beams, and photon cannons, which begin draining his shields immediately. After what feels like far too short a time, the attack breaks through, rocking him in his seat again as his ship takes damage.

But during that time, he’s accomplished his primary goal. The route he chose has taken him and his attacker far from the main shipping routes, where the stranded passenger liner awaits its rescue. His own distress beacon, still emitting from back at the scene of the original battle, will summon Bruce and the others. The Bats, in turn, will save those people. All he has to do now is make his final blows count to keep the behemoth from turning around and making trouble for them. 

Well, he knows just how to do that. Swallowing, Dick keys in the auto-destruct sequence, readying his ship for an explosive last stand. If he times this just right, he should be able to knock out the behemoth’s propulsion systems. Of course, that will still leave their weapons array intact. That’s not ideal, considering he’ll be floating helplessly in space in his escape pod at that point. Oh well. That’s future Dick’s problem. He’s made it through worse.

Grinning, he reaches out to press the final key and lock in his commands. Then pauses, mouth hanging open as he stares at the viewscreen.

_Who the heck is that, and what are they doing?_

There’s another ship rapidly closing on their position. Judging by how close they were before he noticed them, they must have some damn good cloaking tech. Small and sleek, black with red trim, they blend into the abyss and move like a shadow as they dart forward to engage the behemoth.

Blinking away his shock, Dick belays the auto-destruct and moves to back up the unknown ship.

_Enemy of my enemy and all that, right?_

But it seems they barely need the help. Those are _not_ standard photon cannons. Whatever this ship’s packing, it rips through the behemoth’s shields like an asteroid plummeting through a planet’s atmosphere. The unknown pilot seems to catch on to Dick’s plans quickly, targeting the shields which protect the propulsion systems and weapons array first, punching holes in the behemoth’s defenses so the _Nightwing_ can launch missiles through the gap, to devastating effect.

The behemoth attempts to return fire, but the slim little ship is difficult to target, too small and fast for the systems to get a lock. Their wasted attempts are to Dick’s advantage, and by the time they think to target _Nightwing_ again, his shields have regenerated sufficiently to hold them off.

The battle is over fast. It ends with the behemoth adrift in the expanse while the two smaller ships are both damaged but functional. Definitely a win. Dick sits back in the pilot’s seat, and blows out a puff of air to send his sweaty bangs off his forehead. “Frag,” he says with a dazed grin, “that was a hell of a fight.” Stretching, then shaking out his arms to loosen muscles rendered tight by the tension of the fight, he keys in a command to open a channel. He wants to thank his mysterious rescuer and maybe find out a little about them if they’re open to talking. There aren’t many vigilantes willing to police the expanses between Coalition worlds, and for good reason. It’s a thankless job that’ll get most people killed before they’ve even had time to build a name for themselves.

This ship and its crew of—he quickly checks the scans, then raises a brow—a single humanoid pilot has proven useful in battle. Considering the rescue the ship just performed, there’s a good chance the pilot might be willing to ally with the Bats. If nothing else, it won’t hurt to open lines of communication. But there’s no answer to his hail. In fact, the scans indicate there’s nothing there now to receive it. When he looks up, startled, the viewscreen is empty except for the disabled behemoth, looming sullenly before him and taking up half the screen with its bulk.

His unknown rescuer is gone. Further scans give him nothing, not even a clear ion trail to show in which direction they left. Interesting. His estimation of their tech level ratchets up another notch.

“Well, frag,” Dick mutters, disappointed. Just then, the comms chime with a hail. Perking up in hopes of it being his rescuer, he answers immediately, then wishes he hadn’t.

“Dick,” Bruce says in an awful, barely controlled tone of voice, _“why_ is your distress beacon back here, with these disabled ships, and not with _you,_ to enable us to come to your assistance?” There’s a faint sound that might be his teeth grinding together.

Dick winces. Whoops. Yeah, the others aren’t likely to take too well to learning of his plan to use himself as bait in order to save the civilians. _Damn you, past Dick!_

He chuckles awkwardly, running his fingers through his hair. “Heh, so funny story about that…”

* * *

Drifting away on impulse power in maximum stealth mode, the _Redbird_ steadily gains distance from the site of that awesome fight. Tim doesn’t even try to suppress his happy grin at the memory of working in perfect tandem with the _Nightwing_. He covers his mouth with his hands, still staring, wide eyed, at the legendary ship gradually shrinking in his viewscreen. Despite his best efforts, a tiny, high pitched squeak of sheer exhilaration slips out.

“Oh my Tesla,” he whispers in awe. “That was the _Nightwing_. I just saved the _Nightwing_!”

Heart still racing from the impromptu battle he engaged in, Tim draws in an unsteady breath.

_Wow._

He knows it may not have been the wisest course of action, risking the continued anonymity and stealth on which his survival depends. Okay, it was definitely pretty dumb, considering. He absolutely shouldn’t have risked coming so far into Coalition territory just to get footage of _Nightwing’s_ battles, for old time’s sake. But the moment he’d realized the _Nightwing_ was truly in danger, there hadn’t been another choice. Not for him.

“At least he’s okay,” Tim says softly, looking at the tiny speck that’s now all he can make out of the _Nightwing_. In his mind’s eye, he sees dark, vivid blue eyes, golden olive skin, and a flashing white grin. Feels strong arms close around him in a warm, gentle hug. He wonders if it would feel the same, now, or if the memory has warped over the intervening years. Surely a simple hug couldn’t carry with it such an overwhelming feeling of safety and care. Of course, it’s not like he has much experience lately with which to judge.

Trembling slightly at the reminder, he tries not to dwell on how long it’s been since he touched another person. How many days, months, and years he’s spent hiding in the expanse, alone, with only the occasional furtive landfall on a frontier world to trade whatever salvage he’s accumulated for necessary supplies and fuel.

He carefully avoids calculating the time he probably has left, and by how many weeks his actions just now have likely cut that remaining time short.

“It was worth it, to save Dick.” Tim smiles faintly, thoughts still in the past, then huffs a quiet little laugh. “After all, it’s just returning the favor, anyway.” It’s not like he would have had even _this_ much time, if not for Dick Grayson. Even if the hero probably barely remembers him by now, one small face a decade ago in a vast sea of those who owe their lives to the famous vigilante or who have been helped by the generosity of the powerful Wayne family. Even if his kindness back then had meant everything to Tim.

Judging he’s finally far enough out to go into hyper without giving himself away or compromising the complex conditions which allow for the _Redbird’s_ near-undetectable stealth mode, he begins to key in his next course, then pauses.

Maybe he should stick close to the _Nightwing_ for a while. It’s risky, considering the level of tech employed by the Bats, but it might just be worth the danger. The vigilante seems apt to bite off more than he can chew, if that fight was any indication. Tim’s not sure if Dick had another layer to his plan, but the way things were going before he intervened, it looked an awful lot like a last stand. Which is unacceptable. Dick Grayson has too much to live for, too many people who care about him and depend on him to risk himself like that. Not like Tim, who has nothing and no one left at all.

And now that Tim’s all but given himself away, he could sure as frag do worse than spend what time he has left protecting his childhood hero.

Allowing himself a faint smile, he alters his course to aim for an asteroid belt in the binary star system the Bats call home. He doesn’t even consider the three planets in the habitable zone in orbit around the yellow dwarf primary star, Chiroptera A. There’s no way the technological prowess of the greatest vigilante team in Coalition territory would miss an extra presence so close to home. Going within sensor range of the Bats’ base on the third planet, Gotham, or _Nightwing_ ’s base on the second planet, Blüdhaven, would be foolish beyond belief. The final habitable world in the system, an arid planet closest to Chiroptera A, is out of the question as well. Arkham is not somewhere anyone sane would ever want to go.

And the handful of gas giants orbiting the individual stars in the system outside the habitable zone are still a bit too close to the Bats for his comfort. He’s doing this to protect Dick, after all. The last thing he needs is to accidentally reveal his presence and draw him into his problems.

But the asteroid belt, weaving between the orbits of the outermost two gas giants in the system? Those planets are in circumbinary orbit around both Chiroptera A and its companion star, Chiroptera B, a comfortable distance away from the Bats’ main stomping grounds while still close enough to keep an eye on the _Nightwing’s_ movements.

Out that far, there should only be scattered mining bases and research stations on the moons and larger asteroids to worry about, along with the occasional intersystem traffic. He can disguise the _Redbird’s_ signature so it looks like just another mining vessel, at least on system scans. Visual contact is another story, but he’ll just have to avoid letting anyone get close enough to get a clear view of him.

It’s doable. And it will give him the best shot at getting close enough to the Bats to follow _Nightwing’s_ movements. If he manages that, he’ll be able to hang back and just dive into a fight when the vigilante really needs it.

As the binary system comes into view on the screen, Tim’s heart catches painfully in his throat. _Oh,_ he thinks, staring numbly at the beautiful sight of the luminescent primary star and its dimmer red companion, their complex system of planets strewn around them like brilliant beads suspended on invisible strings. _This is the first time I’ve been back here since…_

Blinking hard and ignoring the stinging in his eyes, he sets the computer to begin scanning for a promising-looking asteroid to set up base on. No use dwelling on the past, not when the present is fleeting and the future nonexistent. Sniffing loudly, he rubs his eyes and then gets to work. Something with natural caverns would be best, preferably with high concentrations of heavy metals as well, to help mask his signal and lend credence to his cover as a simple mining vessel on any perfunctory scans. The computer chimes, several possibilities coming up on the viewscreen, and Tim studies them carefully.

Yeah, this is going to be a good way to spend however long he has left, even if just being here in this system is raising old ghosts. At least it’s company, which is more than he’s had in a long damn time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Dick, cackling with glee as he trounces pirate ship:** “Take THAT! Damn, this is way too easy—”  
>  **Enormous enemy ship bristling with weapons:** *Decloaks, immediately begins firing on Dick’s ship*  
>  **Dick, giving a manly shriek and implementing evasive maneuvers:** “Go back to being easy to beat! I WASN’T COMPLAINING” *Frantically draws ship away from civilians, sets up dramatic self-sacrificing last stand* “Welp at least I won’t be around for the lecture Bruce is bound to give me over this”  
>  **Mystery ship, appearing out of nowhere:** *Saves Dick’s ass, immediately disappears again*  
>  **Dick, confused and mildly turned on:** “...Huh”  
>  **Bruce’s voice, coming from his comms:** “Dick, get comfortable because I have a four hour lecture prepared on what you just did—”  
>  **Dick, slouching into his seat with a sigh:** “Dammit”


	2. Chapter 2

“So, Dickhead, where’s your knight in shining titanium duralloy today? Gonna stub your toe so they’ll come flying to your rescue again?” Jason’s teasing voice matches the shit-eating grin on his face on the viewscreen. Dick experiences a brief temptation to shut down the transmission and claim technical difficulties later.

He quickly dismisses the idea. Tantalizing though it is to flee the annoyance that is his family, Babs and Bruce both have the knowledge and capabilities to reopen the channel if he tries to close it. Might as well just get it over with. Anyway, if that’s the best Jason’s got, maybe this won’t be too bad.

“Yes, Grayson, perhaps you should injure a fingernail. Do you think your suitor would attempt to infiltrate your ship in order to, as they say, _kiss it better?”_ And that’s Damian, smirking at him from the other side of the viewscreen.

_I stand corrected. This is definitely going to get worse before it gets better._

If his eighteen year-old brother has deemed this occasion worthy of teaming up with their middle brother, that does not bode well for Dick making it through this meeting unscathed. Well, at least they’re getting along. Babs will probably stay neutral in whatever happens next, as will Duke. And Steph and Cass couldn’t make this meeting, so they can’t _all_ gang up on him. He chuckles awkwardly, rubbing a hand on the back of his neck and shifting in his seat. “C’mon, you guys, it’s not that big a deal.”

It’s really not. The unknown helper, who they’ve all taken to calling ‘Red’ for the coloration of the ship, has now arrived at the _Nightwing’s_ battles on four separate occasions. That doesn’t have to mean anything beyond the obvious. Maybe the pilot just wants to be a vigilante and figured they would shadow an experienced fighter for a while before setting out to make their own name. Or they could be working up to asking the Bats if they can join the cause. Maybe they think proving their abilities in the field is the best way to impress the Bats. At this point, who knows?

_I don’t understand why all their minds jumped straight to the pilot having a massive crush on me, just because they follow me around, swoop in to rescue me whenever I’m in danger, and—okay, maybe I can kinda see their point a little. If I squint._

Bruce narrows his eyes, frowning at him from his position in the center of the viewscreen. “Dick, if there are _any_ indications that this unknown vigilante is attempting to infiltrate your ship—”

At the sight of the man’s protective expression as he seemingly takes Damian’s ridiculous joke seriously, Dick breaks into a surprised laugh. “Bruce, I swear that’s not going to happen.” The glare fails to abate, so he just rolls his eyes and shakes his head. “Fine, if the random pilot who keeps showing up at my fights and helping me kick criminal butt ever tries to break into my extremely secure ship, I promise I’ll let you know.”

Babs tilts her head, apparently actually considering the likelihood of that. “I don’t expect Red will go that far. Their pattern up until now has been very reliable. They show up when _Nightwing_ ’s in trouble, stay long enough to tilt the odds in his favor, then disappear before anyone can confront them. They have shown no signs of being interested in further contact, let alone physical confrontation.”

“That’s ‘cause they’re still in the courtship phase,” Jason mutters, then smirks wickedly and winks at Dick. “Just wait, soon you’ll wake up and there’ll be this huge Terelian dude or dudette asleep in your bunk next to you—”

_Ugh, Terelian? Jason, why, those guys may be humanoid, but only barely. And they smell like old cheese. Make some damn good alcohol, though._

Damian’s scoff interrupts Dick’s musings. “Todd, you fool, a Terelian would never be able to sneak up on Grayson unawares in his sleep! The stench alone would awaken him the moment one entered the ship. No, his suitor is far more likely to be an Arcturan. Such a person would be able to slip into the ship using the natural teleportation powers inherent to that race, which would also explain their ability to disappear so completely after each battle.”

That’s great, but… “Dami, Arcturans eat their mates after copulation.”

Damian shrugs. “All relationships have their challenges.” Dick’s mouth drops open at his baby brother’s callous dismissal of his hypothetical but still very tragic death.

Jason bursts into laughter. “So true, little man! Relationships are—” He cuts off as a bright orange arm reaches into the field of view behind him and twines around his neck. A moment later, Princess Koriand’r appears, smiling.

“Relationships are what, my dear _zarbnarf?”_ Her voice and expression are gentle, yet somehow manage to convey a sense of peril. Jason gulps, gaze shifting to the other side of the window where a moment later his other partner slides into view, grinning at the spectacle.

“Yeah, Jaybird, go on. Share your wisdom with us.” Roy Harper smirks at his tongue-tied boyfriend, then waves at the screen. “Hey, Bats.”

“Hey, Roy. Hi, Kori.” Dick smiles at his friends, glad to see them even if there’s a strong chance Roy, at least, will join his siblings’ teasing.

“Wait, does this mean the serious part of the call is over?” Another voice draws Dick’s attention back to the view of Damian’s ship, where a grinning, interested face now occupies nearly the entire window as Jon stands far too close to the camera. Behind him, Dick can just make out Damian, facepalming at his partner’s enthusiasm. “Oh, hi, Dick! Congrats on your new stalker-relationship, I guess?” Jon backs off a little to a more normal distance, still beaming.

“Hi, Jon,” Dick says weakly, waving at his brother’s boyfriend. On the other screen, Roy is now sitting on Jason’s lap, kissing him as Kori weaves her fingers through their hair and chuckles warmly, other hand out of sight. Looks like they forgot they were still on holo.

Awkward.

“Dear Asimov, _why?”_ Bruce mutters, closing his eyes as though pained at the sight.

In her window, Babs snorts, then keys something in out of sight of the pickup. A moment later, Jason’s window mercifully blinks and then fades out. She snickers. “Anyway, I guess this does mean the productive portion of the call is over. Unless you had anything constructive to add, B?”

Bruce lowers his hand, which he’s been using to massage the bridge of his nose for at least the past five minutes. “Not at this time.” He sounds infinitely weary. A moment later, he brightens marginally. “Hello, Cass. Stephanie. Mission went well?”

The girls pop into view in a new window, taking the place of the one Jason occupied previously. Steph grins, running a hand through her sweaty, tousled blonde hair. “Yeah, things went great! Even though _we_ don’t have a mysterious knight errant ready to dive in front of every blaster for us.” Cass tilts her head, raising one eyebrow minutely, and her girlfriend nods. “That’s true, we don’t need that, not when we have each other.” She grins at her companion, bumping their shoulders together.

Not for the first time, Dick experiences a moment of blinding gratitude that his younger sister found someone so loving and compatible. They’d worried that her background as a League of Assassins child-soldier experiment and the communication challenges resulting from that abuse would prevent Cass from ever having close relationships outside the family. Although he never would have expected her to hit it off with someone as vivacious and extroverted as Steph, seeing them together it’s clear they just fit.

Glancing back at the viewscreen, Steph shrugs apologetically. “Anyway, we need to go finish processing these guys, then get some maintenance done.”

Bruce frowns. “Why would you need to perform maintenance? Did the _Blackbat_ or the _Batgirl_ take damage during the fight?”

Cass leans forward. “Maintenance,” she whispers firmly as she cuts the call.

“I’ll double check, make sure it’s not too bad,” Babs offers, then smiles happily as Dinah wraps an arm around her shoulders. “Later. Right now, I think it’s time for my lunch date.” Her partner leans in for a kiss.

“Seeya, guys,” Dick smiles and waves as one by one, the others sign off, Duke waving as he cuts the connection. Finally, the only one left is Bruce.

The man stares into space for a moment, then inhales slowly. Raising his gaze to fix on Dick’s face and looking deeply uncomfortable, he begins to speak. “Son, if you’re really interested in this new vigilante, that’s… fine. I just want to make sure you’re being safe—”

Reflexively, Dick’s hand shoots out and cuts the call. Yeah, nope. Every single one of his siblings and pseudo-siblings has had to endure the sex talk from Bruce at some point over the years, with the sole exception of Duke, who only got out of it because he’s asexual and aromantic so he managed to convince Bruce that it doesn’t apply to him.

For the rest of them, it’s the price they pay for being protégés of one of the most awkward and paranoid men alive. The others all seem to consider it worth it to be with their chosen partners. But like _frag_ is he going to endure that humiliation when the closest thing to a date he’s had in the past five cycles is the mysterious vigilante who, for all he knows, is just _really_ into kicking criminal ass. Heck, maybe they just follow the _Nightwing_ around because he’s good at flushing out criminals, like some kind of deep-space bird dog. There’s definitely no reason to suppose the pilot has any romantic interest in him.

No, his family’s just teasing. Or maybe hopeful, for his sake. Now that Cass has a partner, it isn’t easy being the only romantically inclined member of the group one who isn’t part of a happy romantic relationship, and the others probably know that. Well, they definitely do, considering the number of times he’s moped about it when they all took a night off to watch holovids and finish a barrel of Terelian ale together.

Even Bruce has his thing with Diana and Clark, although of course it’s often difficult to juggle with their duties to their homeworlds. Still, Krypton and Themyscira are close enough for the partners to see each other regularly, and they all seem very satisfied with their arrangement.

Dick ignores the repeated chimes of the comm as Bruce tries to call him back, then sets everything to silent mode to prevent the man from overriding his comm and opening a channel anyway.

Figuring it would be a good idea to put some distance between himself and his family as well as get some work done, he considers the current cases he’s been investigating. None are pressing, so he might as well go check out the odd occurrences over at the fifth moon of the outermost planet in the system, a rocky world with an erratic orbit around both binary stars. Unmanned mining ships have been disappearing there, with no wreckage left behind or any indication of what’s been happening to them. A few manned ships, as well, which is what brought this to the Bats’ attention.

_Whatever’s going on out here, hopefully I’ll be able to get to the bottom of it quickly. Rescue any survivors from the manned ships, and get repairs done if that’s what is needed._

As the _Nightwing_ approaches the rocky, barren moon, it’s immediately obvious things aren’t right. The satellites which are supposed to send reports on mining operations, including aerial imagery and footage of ships entering and leaving the system, are malfunctioning. That’s the only explanation for the fact that there’s clearly an operating base of some kind being built on the moon’s surface, and not a single image or report documenting it has come through to the Bats.

Which is extremely bad. Those satellites are programmed by Babs herself, and Dick can count on one hand the number of people able to go head to head with her when it comes to tech. The fact that the satellites have been sending innocuous images and reports back means someone managed to get around her security and either replace or loop the footage the Bats were receiving. This goes a long way toward explaining those missing mining ships, though. Of course it seemed like they just disappeared. They were flying into a blind spot on the Bats’ radar, and no one even realized. He has a bad feeling about what must have happened to them. Whoever’s building this base may well have been willing to go to extreme lengths to keep it secret.

 _Frag. I’ve got to investigate, then get this intel back to the others._ Dick considers, then reorders his plans. He needs to get a message out first, and then poke around a bit. That way he’ll have backup if he needs it.

Decided, he reactivates the comms, opening a line back to base. Nothing happens. Frowning, he tries again, on all channels. There’s no response. “Double frag.” Whatever’s affecting the satellites must be blocking signals out, as well. A prickling feeling on the back of his neck is all the warning he gets, but it’s enough. He learned a long time ago to pay attention to his instincts. Slamming a hand down on the control panel, he activates maximum shields. Not a moment too soon, because in that instant his ship rocks as it receives fire. From the turbulence, it feels like he just took hits from multiple directions.

_Whoops._

Even before the sensors register the other ships surrounding him, he knows he’s in deep trouble. Someone with the skills and resources to hack the satellites and build a secret base would definitely notice him poking around out here, even with the standard Bat stealth tech enabled. And considering the effort these guys have already gone to in order to keep their base a secret from the Bats, a base they built in the Bats’ _own system…_

Well, they’re damn sure not going to let him escape with that information. Not without a hell of a fight.

So things are looking pretty terrible. Then he finally gets a read on his attackers from the scans, and the situation suddenly gets a thousand times worse.

What the _frag_ is the League of Assassins doing out here?

* * *

Tim’s hands shake as he moves them to hover over the controls. They feel like lead as he forces himself to perform the movements to send the _Redbird_ barrelling toward the assembled League fighters, when every self-preservation instinct he has left is screaming at him to run the other away.

But that’s not an option right now. Not when the _Nightwing_ is in danger. Ra’s al Ghul has no reason to take Dick Grayson alive, and that is unacceptable.

 _I should have figured this out,_ he seethes, furious with himself for somehow missing the fact that the League of goddamn Assassins started setting up shop so close to the asteroid he’s made into his own temporary base. _They’re in the system, and I didn’t even notice. They have to be here for me. I must’ve been spotted around this system too many times, and now they’re closing in. This is my fault._

It doesn’t help that the Bats were obviously unaware of the incursion as well. Regardless, the League is here now. The only way to save Dick is for Tim to break his own rules and confront the formidable assassins himself.

Tim swallows. He hasn’t ever faced off against League ships in the _Redbird_ , so while theoretically the defenses should hold up against their weaponry, he isn’t positive. And it’s been a long time since he’s seen League fighters in action. Not since his parents—

He shakes his head, not wanting to think about that right now. Or ever, really.

Once he does this, he’ll have tipped his hand completely. Even if he makes it through the coming battle, the League will close in on him once he gives himself away so thoroughly. And when Ra’s finally catches up to him, he’ll be fragged, just like his mom and dad. Showing himself here, in this ship? Is as good as an engraved invitation offering himself to the League, along with all the proprietary materials and tech his parents torched their own conglomerate and died to protect.

But he has a contingency for that, so it’s all good. Well, maybe the term _good_ is relative, considering the near-certain probability that soon he’s going to face down the barrel of an impossible decision: allow Ra’s to take him alive, or initiate the auto-destruct on his own ship. Swallowing, he realizes he already knows exactly what choice he’ll make.

_Hold on, Dick. I’m coming._

The _Redbird_ bursts into the group of stealth fighters which surround the _Nightwing_ in a threatening sphere. They’re all firing their photon cannons, apparently trying to overwhelm the vigilante through sheer overwhelming force. The _Redbird’s_ arrival sends their careful formation scattering. Excellent.

But there are still so many of them. A dozen ships, all squaring off against just him and the _Nightwing_. They’ve faced worse odds, but these are League fighters _,_ which puts their threat level several orders of magnitude above any of the pirates or mercenaries he’s helped the vigilante put away over the past few weeks since he took up the self-appointed duty of watching the older man’s back.

_This calls for desperate measures._

Tim rapidly implements one of the special, still-untested protocols his parents developed, specifically designed to combat League ships. The _Redbird_ fires what looks like a single superpowered ion gun at the closest League ship. Tim watches, heart pounding. There’s no way of knowing if the weaknesses it was designed to target have been patched during the intervening years, but…

A brilliant web of light erupts from the ship he’d targeted, spreading out until it engulfs all of the League vessels.

“Oh frag,” Tim whispers, eyes widening. That’s a bit more of an effect than he’d anticipated. Darting his gaze toward the _Nightwing_ , ready to drag the ship away from the danger zone by tractor beam if necessary, he’s relieved to see the vigilante ship is carefully but rapidly weaving its way between the interlocking beams of light. “Good choice, Dick.”

He turns his attention to his own safety, taking the _Redbird_ a safe distance away. The _Nightwing_ pulls up alongside him, presumably to keep an eye on him while observing the fallout. Tim smirks. The Drake Conglomerate proprietary stealth tech this prototype ship is outfitted with is _still_ better than anything on the market today. Better than even the Bats’ technology, and isn’t that wild?

The alien tech his parents brought back from one of their numerous xenoarchaeological expeditions was an incredible find, one that could have revolutionized the industry. Of course, they had immediately begun studying and adapting it before they’d even made it back home. And developing it specifically to combat League ships made sense, considering their own history with the League of Assassins. Too bad Ra’s al Ghul managed to get wind of it before the designs reached full production. If Tim’s parents hadn’t managed to engineer his escape in this prototype…

He swallows, not wanting to think about the possibility of this tech in the hands of the League of Assassins. He still remembers his parents’ last holo-communication. “We’ll be home soon, sport,” his father had said, smiling encouragement despite the lines of fear and distress on his face. He’d moved to the side then, clearly focused on manning the weapons array. Despite being primarily a research ship, the vessel Tim’s parents used when they traveled the galaxy together was actually heavily armed, a reaction to the first time their family encountered the League of Assassins. Too bad it wasn’t enough.

“We love you,” his mother had added, tears on her cheeks as she keyed in a sequence on the ship’s computer. “Tim, if we don’t…” She'd broken off for a moment, then continued in a more level voice. Her blue eyes, so like his own, shone with love and conviction as she spoke. “You need to keep that ship away from the League, do you understand me? You must _never_ allow it to fall into their hands. Promise me, darling.”

“I promise,” he’d whispered, all of twelve years old and on the cusp of leaving his childhood behind forever.

It hadn’t been until much later that Tim realized that was probably the moment Janet Drake initiated the complete purge of all of Drake Conglomerate’s proprietary research, followed shortly thereafter by evacuation countdowns in all their facilities and then auto-destruct of all their physical holdings.

All he had seen then was the view past his mom’s shoulder of the surrounding viewscreens which provided panoramic visuals on the bridge of their ship. That was how he saw the League fighters, enclosing his parents’ ship in a loose sphere, and opening fire. The last thing he saw before the fiery impacts broke off the transmission was his mom and dad, shaken and afraid but undaunted, reaching for each others’ hands.

He’ll never know if they managed to hold hands in their final moments, and that thought haunts him with an aching pain that doesn’t seem to lessen with time.

It hurts so badly to remember. Tim sniffs loudly, wiping a hand across his eyes, then forces himself to focus on the present. At least the tech his parents died for is proving itself now.

The League ships are floating husks, life support functional, but only barely. The _Nightwing_ can handle the cleanup. Tim triggers total stealth mode and then slips away.

Now that he’s shown the League exactly what this ship can do, it’s only a matter of time before they come for him. And this time, they’re sure to have something to counter his tech.

Whatever. Tim’s so tired, and it’s been a damn good run. Anyway, maybe he’ll manage to evade his pursuers for a while longer. One thing’s for sure, though. He’d better stop shadowing the _Nightwing_ now, or he’ll lead them right to his hero’s door and possibly drag him down, too.

 _Guess this is as good a time as any to lose myself in the expanse again. And hey, maybe I can dodge them for long enough to figure out another way out of this mess. Anyway, I’m glad I got to see_ Nightwing _again. Wish I could have gotten one last hug from Dick, though._

With a final glance at the system he once called home, Tim drops the _Redbird_ into hyper, and leaves it all behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Dick, eyeing viewscreen suspiciously:** “Hey guys—what’s up?”  
> His entire family, grinning at him from the viewscreen: “So, did your secret admirer make a move yet?” *Eat popcorn, stare at Dick while waiting avidly*  
>  **Dick, grimacing:** “Ugh, you guys all suck” *Hangs up, flies ship directly into a fight with the League of Assassins* “Oh frag”  
>  **Tim, swooping in to save him once again:** “Welp now Ra’s knows I’m here, I’m screwed and not in the good way” *Reminisces about dead parents, goes off into the expanse to be murdered by League*


	3. Chapter 3

Dick watches the displays as the _Nightwing_ scans yet another sector, ostensibly looking for any signs of League infiltration in neighboring systems. That’s important, of course, but he’s also taking the opportunity to search for Red. The mysterious vigilante hasn’t shown up at any of his close calls ever since they routed the League outpost in the Bats’ system together, and that was over three weeks ago.

At least they managed to thoroughly expel the League of Assassins from their system. Whatever Red did to those League ships completely fragged them. Ra’s al Ghul’s attempt to gain a foothold in their backyard backfired spectacularly, and now their entire team is on high alert for further League incursions. Too bad they weren’t able to glean much intel on _what_ the League was after in their system. The files at the League base were wiped before they landed, and the League assassins on the ships and base didn’t crack under interrogation. At least the Bats managed to bring them in before they activated their emergency protocols; usually, League assassins do not allow themselves to be taken alive.

Sometimes, he really hates their opponents. What kind of organization would prefer training their operatives to kill themselves rather than hope for a chance of rescue? Then again, that’s probably why they’re the bad guys. Well, that and all the murdering and other generally nefarious activities they tend to engage in.

_At least Ra’s is probably going to think twice before coming after the Bats on our own turf again. Still, why hasn’t Red shown up since then?_

Not for the first time, a wave of concern washes through him for the other vigilante. Impressive ship or not, it’s dangerous in space. There are worse things out there than photon cannons, and if Red really is completely alone…

Well. Trying to survive without backup is a losing proposition, in the end. Dick’s fingers drum on the controls and he taps his foot, nervous energy finding an outlet. He wants to be able to do something, but all he can do right now is wait while this tedious search effort plays out.

As he spins in the pilot’s chair, considering the benefits of getting up to do some stretches while the scan continues, a soft chime draws his attention back to the control panel.

“Huh. That’s… definitely not just background noise.” Focusing the scan and amplifying the pickup, he cleans the signal up. Running it through the decoders, he finally plays it back and is stunned to realize he’s listening to a League of Assassins distress signal.

Well, a call for backup, really. The League doesn’t look kindly on defeat. The coded request is framed as asking for more resources to secure a package rather than a desperate plea for help, even though Dick can hear the sounds of battle and groans of the injured in the background.

 _Man, the League really sucks. Isn’t there better job security for assassins out there somewhere? There have to be less awful alternatives for these guys. Then again, they_ are _assassins. That right there indicates a long sequence of poor life choices, so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised they stick with an employer who expects ultimate loyalty and offers basically no benefits._

But none of that’s important right now. “Okay, I definitely know better than to go check this one out alone.” Dick frowns, wondering once again where Red is, and if they’re alright. He’d just started to get used to having immediate backup in the field, too. Oh well. The Bats should have a fairly rapid response time, considering they’re all spread across the neighboring sectors helping with the search. He sends off a databurst to the _Oracle_ , trusting Babs to disseminate it to the others and send them his way.

Activating his ship’s defensive shielding and stealth mode, Dick sets course for the coordinates associated with the intercepted League message. If he’s lucky, the League reinforcements won’t have arrived at the scene yet. Maybe he’ll be able to fight off the ship that sent the distress signal, and liberate whatever it is they meant by _package_ before anyone else gets there.

Of course, he isn’t that lucky.

“Holy fragging _Sagan,_ that is a lot of League ships.” Dick’s eyebrows soar and his mouth drops open as he takes in the sight before him. Ahead, just within range of his long-distance scanners, is a dense sphere of League fighters. Scans indicate _dozens_ of ships. Those on the outside seem to be damaged, drifting aimlessly through space, while those in the center of the sphere appear to be in good shape. As he watches, a web of bright white light arcs between the remaining fighters.

_Red. They’ve got to be there. I’ve never seen any other attack that looks like that._

Worry climbing, Dick tries to spot the slim vigilante ship. Unfortunately, he can’t see or scan through the cloud of fighters. League tech tends to interfere with scanners, and the visual is completely occluded by the numerous other ships in the way. But that web of light was _exactly_ like the incredible display when Red disabled twelve of the League fighters last time.

It’s all just the same, except… The sphere of ships slows, then continues contracting as the light web fizzles out. It’s clear they’ve figured out a way to counter Red’s ultimate weapon. The League must have sent in several waves of ships, ready to sacrifice some in exchange for learning more about the technique and developing something to combat it.

Things aren’t looking good for the other vigilante. Dick tries his comms, and is unsurprised to find them unresponsive. The advanced signal jammers are hell on communication, and definitely one of the worst aspects of fighting the League.

Dick does the only thing he can under the circumstances. He charges his weapons, locks his ship into combat mode, and then dives into the fray. The _Nightwing_ comes in blasting, releasing a volley of ion guns, particle beams, and photon cannons, letting the auto-target select weak points. There are just too many enemy combatants to waste time trying to cripple them one by one. He takes advantage of his opponents’ surprise and delay in returning fire, using the opportunity to capture one of the disabled ships in his tractor beam and then fling it at the sphere of ships.

Amazingly, it actually manages to break through, tearing a gap in the pattern as fighters backtrack and move to get out of the way. The _Nightwing_ grabs and tosses another, then another, until he’s actually able to see the ship trapped in the center of the pack.

It’s Red, and the slim black and red ship looks like _hell._

Red’s shields flicker in and out, the last reserves of power barely managing to hold the attackers’ ion guns off. The League isn’t using any of their heavier weaponry, and Dick remembers with a sudden shock of horror that the message he intercepted spoke of retrieving a package. Is the ship the package… or is it the pilot? Either way, the fighters are unlikely to damage it too heavily for fear of reprisals from their leader.

Well, that gives him a little room to maneuver. As long as Red can still move…

_C’mon, Red, work with me here._

His silent pleas seem to be answered as the damaged vigilante ship slowly wheels. Expecting it to start limping toward the _Nightwing_ , Dick gasps when it instead begins moving the other way, _deeper_ into the pack of enemies. “No! Frag it, Red, what are you _doing?”_

Dick slams his fist down on the controls, releasing a volley of torpedoes in a last-ditch effort to try to keep the League off Red’s back. It’s not enough. They’re going to be overwhelmed in a moment, and his heart beats in his throat as he stares at the screen in helpless fury.

One more hit, and Red’s shields are down. Half the still-functional League fighters begin to close on the disabled ship, while the rest turn to focus their fire on the _Nightwing_. Heart sinking, he realizes he’s not going to make it out of this, either. And he didn’t even manage to return the damn favor and save Red.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers, readying himself for one last stand. At least he can try to take out as many of the League vessels as possible, make his death mean something. His barrage of ion guns, particle beams, photon cannons, and torpedoes definitely gives the oncoming attackers pause.

But it’s the _massive_ bombardment from what seems like all directions at once that stops the attackers in their tracks and puts them on the defense.

Dick stares, stunned speechless, as the Bats and their associates converge in an immense flanking maneuver. The _Batgirl_ is coming in hard from one side, with the _Robin_ and the _Superboy_ flying in from the other for a well-coordinate pincer move. The _Blackbat_ is completely undetectable, as usual, but the swath of disabled ships she leaves in her wake renders her progress highly visible. The _Oracle_ and the _Black Canary_ come in on other vectors, _Black Canary_ swooping down from above strafing while _Oracle_ rises from below, Babs’ technological prowess showing in the wave of ships which simply go dead, adrift, as she passes, her protocols overpowering their computers once they’re in range.

There’s a disturbance on the far side of the sphere, and while Dick can’t scan through the mess in front of him he has a good idea who it might be. Sure enough, a moment later the _Red Hood_ and _Arsenal_ break through the now-chaotic League lines, dipping and weaving around each other as they tear apart careful order and leave nothing but destruction and barely functional ships behind them. The _Signal_ is leading them, Duke’s precog abilities clearly helping to predict the path the League fighters will take, likely before the pilots even know it themselves. An incandescent ball of flame follows behind, Kori clearly having jettisoned herself into space so she can do what she does best. 

But where’s…?

The thought barely begins to form before a huge shadow looms above the _Nightwing_ , and the bulk of the _Bat_ comes into view overhead, blocking the starlight like a black hole moving through space. A barrage of firepower fills the viewscreen, lighting up the expanse as the _Bat_ lets loose. The enormous ship continues to slowly maneuver, and Dick realizes indignantly that Bruce is trying to place his ship protectively between the _Nightwing_ and any attackers.

 _Damnit, B, I’m not_ that _damaged! I can still fight!_

The _Nightwing_ edges around the bulk of the _Bat_ , using it as cover to continue targeting the few League ships which are still moving. It doesn’t look like Bruce’s partners were able to break away from their duties, which makes sense. All-hands calls like this don’t tend to have much warning—

A gigantic lash of roiling plasma, reminiscent of a fiery whip, arcs through the battlefield and rakes a path of bricked tech in its wake.

_Oh, guess Diana made it, after all._

The _Wonder_ rises to flank the Bat on the left, sleek and beautiful as it is deadly. Distinctive red particle beams, more powerful than any not formed on Krypton, tear through the battlefield next as the _Super_ flanks the _Bat_ on the other side.

_Even Clark is here. Wow._

The battlefield looks more like a massive ship graveyard than anything else at this point. Swallowing, Dick searches for Red, having lost track in the chaos. If the League decided to destroy the ship instead of letting it get away—

But then he spots the slim little ship, so scorched it looks entirely black now, no red showing at all. Not even thinking about it, Dick moves the _Nightwing_ gently forward on impulse power, delicately picking his way around disabled League vessels until he reaches the drifting vigilante ship. Catching it carefully in his tractor beam, he begins maneuvering back out of the battlefield. The last thing they need is for one of these League vessels to turn out to be playing dead, and take their target out after all that.

His comms crackle to life. “ _Oracle_ to _Nightwing_ , do you read?”

Sighing, he answers. “Hey there, guys. Thanks for the assist.”

Bruce’s voice growls, “You should not have engaged before we arrived.”

Dick rolls his eyes. Yeah, like that was ever going to happen. It’s almost like B doesn’t know any of them at all.

“What, and allow his paramour to be destroyed? Unacceptable, Father!” Damian’s strident tones make Dick smile.

_Aw, that’s sweet, Dami. A little embarrassing, though._

“I gotta agree, man. Seriously, you can’t possibly have expected him to just stand by and watch while the League blasted his friend.” Duke’s calm, sensible voice is like a breath of fresh air. It’s nice having _one_ sibling who’s above all the teasing.

Jason snorts. “Yeah, Dickie couldn’t let Ra’s just carry off his knight in titanium duralloy. Princess had to do the saving himself, this time!” Dick briefly considers replacing _Red Hood_ ’s paint job with something a little more pink. “Hey, Dickie, you guys finally gonna fuck it out or what? I hear Terelian’s are really, uh, _equipped,_ if ya know what I mean—” He chortles, and Dick mentally adds sparkles to the paint job he’s planning.

“Actually, yeah.” He grins as everyone else cuts off briefly before breaking out in an overwhelming cacophony. Raising his voice, he continues, “I’m about to go introduce myself, so how about you guys get back to cleanup while I take care of that?” More seriously, he continues, “Red might be wounded, guys. I need to get in contact as soon as possible. And judging by the state of that communications array, I’m going to have to board if I want to talk to them.”

“Dick, wait.” Babs continues quickly, “When we got here, Red had their auto-destruct sequence set. They managed to belay it after we engaged, but from what I detected they only had a few seconds left. Not enough time to evacuate to an escape pod.”

In other words, Red had planned to go down with the ship. Troubling, but that does explain why the ship had flown farther into the League cluster rather than moving to fight at the _Nightwing’s_ side. They were trying to take out as many enemies as possible while keeping allies away from the blast.

_I wonder how they’re doing right now. This fight was hell on me, and it had to have been worse on them._

“Be careful,” Bruce says, and Dick nods. That’s a given. He maneuvers his ship to dock with Red’s, wondering all the while what his reception is going to be. Just in case, he grabs a medkit.

_Here we go. I really hope they don’t turn out to be Terelian. Frag it, Jason, now you’ve got that image stuck in my mind._

Snorting, Dick heads through his ship toward the airlock, squares his shoulders, and then steps in. The moment the lock cycles and opens onto Red’s ship, he moves forward, then stops in his tracks.

 _Well,_ he thinks appreciatively. _Red is_ definitely _not Terelian._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Dick, stumbling on swarm of League vessels attacking Red:** “Oh HELL no!” *Throws his ship into the fight, tries desperately to rescue the doomed ship*  
>  **League of Assassins ships:** *Fight back, swarm over both ships like ants on a tasty crumb*  
>  **Dick, resigning himself to death:** “Might as well go down fighting!”  
>  **Other Bats:** “Oh HELL no!” *Crush League ships in a wave of awesome, turn to watch avidly as Dick approaches Red* “You finally gonna make a move? Where’s the popcorn”  
>  **Dick, turning off his comms:** “You guys suck as wingmen”


	4. Chapter 4

Tim leans on the corridor wall as he waits, trying to calm his racing heart. It isn’t working. In another minute, the airlock in front of him is going to cycle open and then Dick Grayson is going to step through.

It’ll be the first time he’s seen the other man face to face since they were children. There’s a world of difference between now and then, and he wonders how much of the seventeen year old he once knew remains, if any.

He lifts a hand to run fingers through sweaty, tousled hair, then lowers it when he realizes it’s shaking. Whether from nerves, adrenaline drop, or possibly sheer exhaustion, he isn’t sure.

 _I’m not ready for this,_ he thinks, suppressing a brief, irrational urge to go hide under his bunk. He probably wouldn’t make it that far anyway, not with the plasma burns on his right leg. The probable sprained left ankle he’s sporting at the moment certainly wouldn’t help, either. Also, there’s a high chance one of those hits earlier breached the hull in the vicinity of his cabin, so his bunk may not be the best choice at the moment.

_Maybe he won’t recognize me?_

Tim clings to that hopeful thought for all of thirty seconds, at which point the airlock finally cycles open. And then Dick Grayson is standing there, looking taller and more muscular and somehow even more gorgeous than ever. Any hope he had of his childhood crush having fizzled out dies a quick, ignominious death. It’s so much _worse_ now that he’s experienced puberty and wow, Dick got tall.

The other man looks equally stunned, dark blue eyes wide in disbelief and shock as he reaches out a hand. “Tim?” he asks in a low voice, blinking and shaking his head as though to clear his vision. He looks like he isn’t quite sure any of this is real. “Oh my Sagan, _Tim.”_

Tim opens his mouth to try to answer, to explain, but before he can get any words out he suddenly finds himself crushed in a tight hug. It’s just like he remembers, impossibly warm and safe. He sighs, relaxing into the other man’s arms and letting him take some of the weight off his aching legs. “Hey, Dick,” he whispers after a while. “Thanks for the save.” He tries to chuckle, but his voice catches on something he doesn’t want to admit is a sob.

Dick tenses, then holds him even closer, gently cupping the back of his head with one hand and stroking his hair. His other hand rubs comforting circles on Tim’s back. “What _happened,_ Timmy? One day you were there and the next, your house was gone. All the Drake Conglomerate holdings blew up, your parents’ ship was destroyed—Tim, everyone was _convinced_ you were in that ship with them. There were records of your skimmer leaving Brentwood like usual to meet their ship when it entered the system, and then it _blew up.”_ His voice is pained, and Tim tenses guiltily.

_I hate this, but the only possible solution was to let them all think I was dead. There just wasn’t any other way to honor Mom’s wishes and protect them all._

“I’m sorry,” Tim says, wincing at the inadequacy of his apology. “I made a promise to my mom. I couldn’t risk anyone knowing I was alive, or Ra’s would use me to get the ship.”

“The ship…” Dick pulls back far enough to see Tim’s face, frowning. “Tim, this ship you’ve been flying. The tech is unbelievable. Where did you even get it?”

By his dark tone and stormy expression, he’s probably already guessed half the story. Tim sighs. “My parents found some alien tech on their last dig. It was advanced enough to combat the League, save other people from what almost happened to us. They were so excited, they sent designs on ahead so the prototype would be fabricated by the time they got back. Only…” His voice breaks, throat closing up as his eyes sting with unshed tears.

He buries his face in Dick’s shoulder. Somehow, that makes it easier to continue. “I don’t know how, but the League found out. I’ve never been able to figure out if Ra’s intercepted my parents’ transmissions, or if someone high up at the company was compromised. Either way, he attacked their ship on the way home. Right as they made it into the system, because he wanted to make them give him the prototype as well as the tech they’d found. And they must’ve known they weren’t going to make it. Mom called, told me to take this ship and protect it. She launched the skimmer as cover while I took the _Redbird_. They managed to keep a holo line open until…”

Images of fiery destruction fill his mind, his parents’ hands forever reaching for each other and never quite touching. A low whine slips out, and he flushes.

“Oh, Sagan,” Dick whispers, sounding pained. “Oh, Timmy, no. Sweetheart, _no._ Please tell me you haven’t spent all this time scrounging some kind of existence alone in the expanse?” He sucks in a ragged breath, shaking his head as though to ward off the answer to his question. “The past _ten years?”_

Tim shrugs. “I mean, I’ll lie if you want?” He lets out a small _oof_ as the hug tightens again. “It was the best way to keep the _Redbird_ out of League hands, and minimize collateral damage if and when they found me. I stayed on the outskirts of Coalition territory mostly, salvaged wrecks and touched down on frontier worlds when I had to take on supplies. Kept myself busy mapping unexplored sectors on the frontiers. It wasn’t so bad.”

It takes a minute for Dick to speak again. When he does, he sounds infinitely sad. “Tim, why didn’t you just come to us? We would’ve—”

“Died trying to protect me? No thanks.” Tim feels Dick inhaling, probably about to protest, and he rolls his eyes. “Dick, I couldn’t be sure the League was fooled by my parents’ ruse. For all I knew, they had intel on my survival and knew, or at least suspected, I was in possession of tech they’d kill anyone to get. And the first place the League would have looked for any sign of me or the ship surviving would have been Gotham. With the Waynes.” He bites his lip, closing his eyes against unwanted tears. “With _you.”_

_They’d come after you just because you were my friend, just because you guys cared about me enough to look after me while my parents traveled. I couldn’t risk it. Staying with you would have put a target on your backs. How could I repay all your kindness like that?_

“That’s ridiculous,” Dick says, giving him a gentle shake. “You _knew_ who we really were, how capable we’d be of defending ourselves, and protecting you.”

Tim snorts. Knowing that the Wayne family were all secretly members of the most notorious vigilante fleet in Coalition territory just made it all the more essential for him not to burden them with his problems. Coalition justice is slow, and tragedies happen fast. The vigilantes help bridge the gaps in the system to keep the vulnerable from falling through the cracks. “The cost benefit didn’t justify my putting all of you at risk. Together, you Bats have saved an incalculable number of lives. Innumerable people depend on you continuing to do so. How could I possibly justify risking all of that just for me?”

“I would’ve been happy to do it. So much happier than spending all these years missing you, thinking I failed you somehow.” Dick squeezes his eyes shut, shaking his head as though to clear away painful thoughts. He opens his eyes again and raises a brow. “Besides, we’re tough enough to take on the League.” That might actually be true, now.

It wasn’t, ten years ago. Tim remembers the blank sorrow behind the kindness in Bruce’s eyes. The way everyone in the manor seemed to move around an empty space, where another boy just a couple of years older than him should have been. No, with Jason’s loss in the _Robin_ so recent, the Bats weren’t in any shape to take on the League. It was amazing they were all so willing to welcome Tim into their home after Dick in the _Nightwing_ saved him and his parents.

Looking back, that first League attack really started everything. It hadn’t even been a real hit, just a ruse to draw attention away from their simultaneous targeting of some Coalition bigwig, but they still would have killed the Drake family if the _Nightwing_ hadn’t shown up. The near-miss imbued his parents with a deep-seated fear of taking their son offworld again, as well as a desire to find or develop a method to combat the overwhelming threat to the Coalition posed by the League.

“Well, you weren’t back then. Maybe now… especially if we outfitted all of you with my parents’ tech.” He winces guiltily. “We’re probably going to have to do that now, you know. Ra’s was angry enough when we blew his base in the Chiroptera system, he’s going to be apoplectic once he finds out about _this.”_

Dick narrows his eyes, possibly thinking about the arrogant, avaricious old despot who has been responsible for so much grief and loss over the years, and whose fault it is that Tim spent the past decade alone with his fear and pain. Although that could just be Tim projecting. “Well, maybe that’s a good thing. It’s about time someone did something to cut the League down in size, and your parents’ tech might just give us the edge we need to tip the balance.”

Tim’s eyes widen, and his brows draw together in calculation. “Hmm. You guys have more than doubled in size since before, haven’t you? Not only did you get Jason back—somehow _—_ you also have another couple of little brothers and a sister now. I saw docus about all of that in old news holos about the Waynes that made it out to the frontier once in a while.” He tilts his head, thinking about all the different ships that converged to help fight off the League fleet and save him. “There were others, though… That was a Themysciran battleship, and the Kryptonian flagship. And I saw another Kryptonian ship, plus a couple of other fighters. You guys been recruiting?”

Dick huffs a laugh, drawing back just far enough to begin leading Tim onto the _Nightwing_ , arm still wrapped around his shoulders. “Kinda? Turns out, we all have a type. Badass, skilled pilots with a lot of sass. So every time someone enters a romantic relationship, we end up with another kickass fighter to add to the team.”

Tim chuckles as they begin to head down the ship corridor. Everything looks so bright and intact, a far cry from his own damaged vessel. “Well, that’s one way to do it, I guess. So… If everyone’s partnered up now, how come yours wasn’t here?”

A loud voice echoes out over the ship comms, causing both of them to jump. “His _partner_ was the damn reason we were all here in the first place! Yo, Timbo, glad you’re alive, heard a lot about you over the years. We gotta swap stories on that shit sometime, now we’re kinda zom-bros. Anyway, when are you two gonna fraggin’ kiss, you’re about to make me lose the bet!”

Tim blinks, trying to process the fact that Jason Todd, long thought dead before his miraculous and mysterious return, is talking to him. And saying something about kissing? He tilts his head, confused.

“Jason!” Dick hisses, looking mortified.

Another voice speaks out then, carrying over what sounds like a scuffle in the background. “Todd has negated the terms of the bet and is now disqualified. Grayson, you may kiss your paramour at your leisure. Certainly not within the next five minutes, of course. After all, you have the class and taste to refrain from mauling the poor man until after you have applied first aid.”

Barbara’s harried voice interrupts then. “I’m so sorry, guys, I didn’t bother to block incoming transmissions because I thought these knuckleheads would be too busy cleaning up the battlefield to pester you. Hi, Tim!”

“Hey, Babs,” Tim says, hiding a smile. He’s missed her calm, no-nonsense approach to life.

“I’m locking everyone else out of the comms now, but don’t think you’re getting out of giving us the full story later, Tim!” Her admonishing voice reminds him Dick wasn’t the only one who mourned him, and he cringes slightly.

_Oh god, I’m going to have to face all of them now. Alfred’s going to look so disappointed—_

A deeper voice, just as familiar, cuts in then. “Timothy.” Bruce. Tim bites his lip, waiting for the recriminations and disappointment he deserves for not finding some way to fix this on his own, or at least keep the Bats out of it. “Welcome home, lad. You’re safe now.” _Oh._ The man clears his throat, sounding embarrassed at the emotion in his voice. “Everyone get back to work.”

Babs has a smile in her voice as she speaks again. “You boys have fun! Although it wouldn’t hurt to consider waiting for about an hour before having fun. Just an idea.” With that, she signs off. Tim snickers, not quite sure what just happened but definitely amused by it as much as he is overwhelmed. Dick’s family has always been a unique bunch. It doesn’t seem like that’s changed, at least.

Although…

“What do they mean, bet? And what’s all that about my being your partner, and us kissing?” He blinks at Dick, watching in awed wonder as the man’s golden-olive skin suffuses with a deep flush.

“Nothing important,” he hedges, turning to palm open a door into what looks like a fairly standard medical bay. He gestures Tim over to a med cot, sitting him down and then beginning to scan and seal his wounds with the available supplies. Since this is a Bat-equipped ship, the available supplies are pretty fragging good and he feels better by the moment.

“Not that I don’t appreciate the medical attention, but if you don’t answer I’m just going to contact Babs and ask her.” Tim raises an eyebrow.

Sighing, Dick caves. “Fine, I’ll spill.” He continues treating Tim’s injuries as he talks. “Everyone’s been joking about you being some kind of knight in shining armor, riding to my rescue every time I’m in trouble.” Chuckling awkwardly, he reaches down to splint the sprain before passing a regenerator over it to heal the injured tissue. Running a hand gently over Tim’s ankle, he leans forward to press a soft kiss to his knee before letting go. “I don’t know where they got the idea there was anything romantic going on, but they kinda ran with it because they’re gigantic trolls.”

Tim can’t answer. He’s too busy turning beet red, both because of the Bats’ crazy theories and because _Dick Grayson,_ his childhood hero and long-time crush, just _kissed his knee._

_I have no idea what is happening right now, but I think I like it._

“I’m sorry,” Dick says, misinterpreting his silence. The man looks up at him from his position kneeling at his feet, a distressed expression on his face. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. They were just joking, you don’t have to feel obligated to do anything—”

Tim can’t help it, he snorts at that. _“Obligated?_ If you think being in a romantic relationship with you would be anything other than the realization of some of my deepest fantasies and unacknowledged desires, you’re insane.” He blinks, going still as he gradually registers what he just accidentally admitted. “Dick,” he says slowly, staring at the stunned, gaping face in front of him, “Did you by any chance just _drug me?”_

“Oh,” Dick whispers, a brilliant grin breaking out on his handsome face, not looking even the least bit repentant. “I mean, yeah, a little? The regenerator would have administered some transdermal pain relievers, and considering the shape you were in, I bet they’re pretty strong.” He chuckles, shaking his head. “Uh, apparently they’re really kicking in hard.”

“I am going to kill you,” Tim says calmly, and Dick’s eyes widen as he shoots to his feet.

He waves his arms in a broad gesture of denial. “Hey, no, none of that! This isn’t a bad thing, just sudden. Seriously, this can be really good. I mean, you’re smart, you kick ass in that ship, I already love you from when we were kids, you’ve grown up incredibly hot, and the whole knight in shining armor thing is actually a massive turn on for me. As is the fact that you are not a Terelian.”

_What the heck?_

“A Terelian?” Tim asks, confused.

“Nevermind, that’s not important. Anyway, I would _really_ like to kiss you to show you _exactly_ how much I return your interest, but you’re drugged right now so it wouldn’t be appropriate to do something like that until later when your mind is clear. Also, Babs can be very scary, and she apparently has her bet set for—” Dick’s babbling cuts off as Tim rises painlessly to his now-healed feet, and presses a smooth, lingering kiss to the taller man’s lips. Dick’s arms close automatically around him, drawing him close as Tim twines his arms around his neck.

It’s like an extension of a Dick Grayson hug, impossibly warm and encompassing and safe, with the thrilling addition of being _hot as hell_. Tim’s body tries to respond to the heat and feel of the other man pressing him close, but he’s too tired to do more than twitch. After a minute, the kiss subsides into something gentler, soft and exploratory.

When they finally separate, they’re both smiling. “Who do you think won the bet?” Tim whispers, blushing fiercely as he remembers the other Bats, and Dick shakes with laughter, pressing a soft, wondering kiss to his hair.

“It doesn’t matter. We’ve got more important things to think about.” He reaches for Tim again, sending a thrill of excitement and desire through him. Maybe he’s not too tired after all.

He closes his eyes expectantly, only to open them in surprise when Dick swoops him up in his arms and begins carrying him. He sees they’re moving down the corridor again and looks at Dick questioningly. The other man huffs. “You just survived a major battle! Not to mention, you’re still drugged, and we haven’t actually seen each other in ten years. I’m putting you to bed while I go help deal with the aftermath of the fight. We can talk more and catch up on each other’s lives when you wake up. There’s no hurry.” His grip tightens minutely. “I’ve got you now.”

Sleep actually sounds really appealing right now, but… Tim bites his lip. “Dick. Are we…?”

Fortunately, the other man seems to understand immediately. “Partners, I hope. I mean, if you want. We already know we work well together, and I think we could make a hell of a team.”

Smiling, Tim nods, letting his head fall to rest on Dick’s strong, broad shoulder again. Partners.

Yeah, that sounds good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Dick, walking through airlock into Red’s ship and immediately recognizing mystery pilot as dead childhood friend:** “TIMMY?!?!”  
>  **Tim, smiling sheepishly:** “Hey” *Does jazz hands* “Missed me?”  
>  **Dick, trying to simultaneously hug Tim and tend to his injuries:** “We thought Ra’s murdered you to death, like your parents! Of course I missed you!”  
>  **Tim, enjoying Dick-hug:** “Damn you’re sexy. My memory really doesn’t do justice to how hot you are. Gonna add SO many fantasies to my spank-bank, you have no idea”  
>  **Dick, pausing to eye Tim carefully:** “Not that I’m not flattered, but should I check you for a concussion?”  
>  **Tim, blushing furiously:** “Omg I’m so sorry, drugs make me really honest—”  
>  **Dick, smirking:** “Oh, don’t apologize. I’m enjoying it”  
>  **Tim and Dick, making heart eyes at each other:** “Yay!”


	5. Epilogue

Dick pauses in the doorway, smiling softly as he gazes down at the man who lies peacefully asleep on their bunk. The past couple of months have been an intense ride between outfitting the ships of the Bats and their allies with the tech the Drakes died to protect, and then going after the League of Assassins for real. There hadn’t been another option by then, not after the League practically declared war following the Bats’ rescue of the _Redbird._ They’d had to take the fight all the way to the Algol system and its dark planet, Nanda Parbat, before they finally managed to push the enemy back. Even then, Ra’s al Ghul vowed vengeance as he slipped through their fingers with a handful of his most trusted generals. 

_We haven’t seen the last of the League, I know. That guy is such a cockroach. And it’s a little—okay, a lot—disturbing how impressed he seemed by Tim and the resilience he showed in managing to keep himself hidden all those years. At this point, I’m not sure what he wants more, revenge, or Tim. So gross._

His shoulder twinges, reminding him that his wounds from the last battle at the demon star are still healing. Rolling it, he sighs, then turns and pads down the corridor to the synthesizer. Tim loves Rigelian coffee, and there’s no better way to wake him than with a steaming mug and a kiss.

_It’s hard to believe so much has changed since he came back into my life. I hadn’t realized how lonely I was until he slipped in and filled those empty spaces. And seeing the way he responds to me…_

It hurts sometimes. Remembering the little slip of a kid Tim used to be, all big-eyed curiosity and chatter, it’s almost physically painful to reconcile the years of enforced isolation he endured because of a man whose greed outstripped his humanity centuries before any of them were born. Dick smiles sadly, recalling the way a twelve year old Tim, drugged to the gills so he wouldn’t feel the pain of the photon burn inflicted on him during the League attack on his parents’ ship, had whispered to him, “Is it fun flying _Nightwing_ , Dick? It is, isn’t it? You’re incredible!”

After he’d recovered from the utter shock of a tiny child somehow knowing his civilian identity while he was in his vigilante gear, Dick had smiled back before asking the kid how he knew. And then nearly had another heart attack when he found out a small child had been avidly following the Bats on their in-system missions, taking holovids from a little skimmer he’d launched from his parents’ estate on Gotham’s smallest moon, Brentwood.

_I should’ve known then he’d be trouble someday. Also, his reaction to pain relievers is hilarious and cute. Would never stand up to interrogation, though, considering he blurts out his deepest secrets the second the drugs hit his system._

Well, Dick will just have to do his best to make sure Tim doesn’t get hurt, and if he does, that he’s in a safe place with people he trusts afterwards. Shouldn’t be too hard. They are partners now, after all. Picking up the mug of Rigelian coffee, he makes his way back to their cabin, then pauses in the doorway, smirking.

_I think I just thought of the best way yet to wake Tim up._

Setting the coffee down, he leans in for that kiss.

* * *

Flying with Dick is amazing, not least because they can set one of their ships to autopilot so they can bunk together on their longer trips. Tim had forgotten what it’s like to live with someone, all his lonely years in the expanse overwriting his happy childhood memories of traveling with his parents before the League attack left them too worried to ever take him offworld with them again. And the eleven months he’d spent off-and-on with the Waynes, between his parents’ sporadic visits home, feel like a distant dream now.

But this? Dick’s scent on his pillows, arm around his waist while he sleeps, and constant little reassuring touches imbue each day with a sense of companionship and love that has anchored Tim so deeply in the present he’s beginning to believe it might just be real.

“Hello there,” he whispers, not opening his eyes as his partner’s lips move against his, the other man curling companionably around him. Dick makes a happy noise as he cuddles into his sleepy warmth and Tim obligingly lifts the covers to allow him back into bed.

“Brought you coffee,” Dick mumbles, reaching over to hand it to him. The scent hits a moment later, deep and rich and wonderful. Oh, _yes._ Tim can open his eyes for that.

He’s got it in his hands and is taking his first sip when he realizes Dick’s sliding down the bed, still kissing his way down his body. _Oh._

Sinking back into the sheets, Tim sighs with happiness. Then whimpers, clutching at the coffee. He really doesn’t want to spill, but Dick is _very_ good at this and—oh, frag. He tilts his head back, chugging the rest of the coffee. He can get another mug later to drink more slowly. Right now, he clearly has another experience to savor. Leaning back, he closes his eyes again and loses himself to the exquisite feeling of Dick loving him.

It’s incredible. Dick is incredible. And the perks are pretty damn good, too. Tim sighs, relaxing into the plasfoam bed for a long moment, then rolls over to pin his partner down and return the favor.

_This is a damn good way to wake up. Maybe I’ll try it on him tomorrow._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Dick, getting coffee ready for Tim and musing over their relationship:** “I’m so happy right now” *Wakes Tim up, plots how to express his happiness in the best possible way*  
>  **Tim, waking up to Rigelian coffee:** “Nothing could possibly make this day any better”  
>  **Dick:** *Makes this day even better*  
>  **Tim, choking on his coffee:** “Holy shit YES” *Takes a minute to lounge in bliss, then pounces on his partner to return the favor*  
> *  
> Thank you so much to everyone who has given kudos or commented, and shout out to Salazarastark for running Dicktim Week! Also, thanks to the [Capes & Coffee Tim Drake discord server](https://discord.gg/bGhpCDn) for the betas and support while I was writing this. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the story, and thanks for reading!


End file.
